


You Don't Need To Protect Me

by RoyalSeal



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 15:38:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2817422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoyalSeal/pseuds/RoyalSeal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a Tumblr prompt. Felicity is fed up with Oliver trying to protect her from himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Need To Protect Me

She’s considered getting a t-shirt emblazoned with those words. Maybe get a sign and hang it up above that stupid salmon ladder. Hell, she may even tattoo them across her forehead in gigantic, disgusting _comic sans font_ if that’s what it takes to get him to _listen_.

It had started out as necessity, and, honestly, it was kind of endearing. As a little girl, Felicity Smoak had been no exception to the culturally driven idea that princesses get in trouble, and require princes to save them, an idea that often clings into adulthood. So The Arrow swooping in front of her to protect her from some jerk had been greeted with her blushing gratitude. Oliver, of course, had acted like it was his job, but that didn’t stop her from giggling over it.

But then he didn’t _stop_ acting like it was his job.

Bad guys with guns? He’d take them down without giving them a second chance if they even mentioned her name. Business tycoons in perfect suits that treated her like she was there to get them coffee and look good in a short skirt? He’d discreetly and “accidentally” knock all their papers off the table and embarrass them in front of an entire board meeting. Would be creeps intent on flirting with her? He’d appear out of freaking nowhere and stare them down with that soulless “I will tear out your insides and nail them to a wall and then throw you off a bridge” look until they crawled away into whatever gutter they’d come from.

His own feelings for her?

Yep, he’d protect her from those too.

And by god, she was fed up.

She had smiled softly at him, that warm feeling blossoming in her chest, the one she got whenever he opened up to her, and had laid her hand on top of his. He had smiled back at her, that small, genuine one he reserved for her alone, that smile mixed with gratitude and feeling and so much love it almost made her melt. He’d drawn closer to her, and she’d positioned herself, ready for the touch of his lips.

But he’d pulled away. “Felicity…I…can’t.” It disgusted her how much he clearly hated saying that.

"Oliver—" She had started, her tone exasperating, her words sour in her mouth, but he had interrupted.

"No, Felicity, don’t. You know how I feel. You know I can’t stop…" A line of frustration and pain furrowed in his forehead, but was quickly replaced by anger as he turned away and clenched his fists. "I can’t stop loving you, Felicity, but I have to stop acting on it. I can’t protect you otherwise."

The tension in her chest was enough to make her scream. They had had this discussion many times before, and she was about to say what she had always said before when he suddenly added, in a quiet, tortured tone,

"I _have_ to protect you.”

That was it.

Felicity Megan Smoak had reached her breaking point.

She stomped loudly (a true feat, in her panda flats) to stand in front of Oliver, drew herself up to her truly intimidating 5 feet and 5 inches, and jammed an almighty finger in front of his face. Eyes snapping with anger, fuchsia colored lips drawn in a tight line, she practically snarled, “Oliver Queen, _stop. It._ ”

She paused. She hadn’t had time to think this far ahead in her tirade, and she wasn’t interested in babbling at the moment, but a swell of anger rushed out of her, and she decided it was time to let herself get swept away.

"I don’t know if you’ve noticed recently because you’ve been too involved with avoiding me and pretending to take care of me but despite my cute exterior and my tendency to babble about things from nerdy tv shows and the fact that I’m not usually hiding out in the shadows at night with a mask on my face and pointy things in my hand doesn’t mean that I am incapable of taking care of myself. Do you know what that is?" She removed the finger from his face, turned swiftly, and jabbed it in the direction of the computer monitor. "That is a computer that used to be nothing but a bunch of spare parts until I turned it into something that not even NASA has, and it’s now working on searching evidence in the FBI database that could connect your whereabouts with the workings of the Arrow and once it finds them, it’s going to let me know, and I’m going to change the timings on all of the paperwork so it looks like someone messed up and didn’t change the timezones on anything because I am _smart as hell_ and I know that humans are more likely to see mistakes as evidence of something not being true than seeing mistakes as evidence of a cover up. And do you feel _this?_ " She mercilessly jammed her finger into his chest, just below his shoulder, and he drew in his breath sharply, eyes widening with surprise at her violent outburst, but remaining silent.

She went on. “ _This_ is where you were shot in the chest, and you made your way to my car in full Arrow gear, and even though I had _no_ reason to trust you, I took you back here, and even though I didn’t even know _Oliver Queen_ , I brought you down here and Diggle and I got that bullet out of your chest, and when your stupid defibrillator stopped working it was _me_ that fixed it so that I could save your _stupid_ life because dammit Oliver, I am _brave_ , and strong as hell, and I could have called the police on you or dropped you at a hospital because that’s what they told us to do, but I _trusted_ you because I am damn good at taking care of myself and knowing what’s safe for me, and you’re alive and taking care of this city because of _me_.”

She moved closer to him and shoved her face right below his, making sure there was no way he could avoid her angry glare. He stared down at her silently, his face impassive, waiting for her to finish.

"I know what I want, Oliver Queen." Felicity said, her tone dangerous and her face full of anger. Her body almost shook with the force of her emotion. "I know what you want. And you think you shouldn’t act on it because you think you have to protect me. Let me tell you something, Vigilante."

She was now so close that she could feel the heat of his body mere centimeters from hers. She was quiet now. A quiet Felicity Smoak is a terrifying sight.

"You think you need to protect me?" She said softly, her eyes narrowed and her jawline tight. "The evidence, Mr. Queen, says instead that I should be protecting _you._ ”

A tense pause hung between them until Felicity pulled back, releasing her breath in a quiet sigh. She never took her eyes off him, though her gaze softened.

Oliver opened his mouth to say something, perhaps to apologize, but Felicity stopped him.

"Oliver?" She spoke his name to ensure his full attention, and dutifully, he gave it to her.

Her face suddenly rolled with emotions, and her voice shook slightly as she spoke.

"I take my job very, _very_ seriously.”

Her lower lip trembled, and she bit down on it. She can’t seem to swallow back the tears that slowly start to make their way down her cheeks.

Oliver was impassive, immovable, still like granite, as he always was when his emotions threatened to get the best of him.

But it was like something _broke_ inside of him as he watched her. Something cold, like barbed wire wrapped around his heart, keeping his feelings imprisoned inside.

No prison built had ever been enough to keep Oliver Queen incarcerated when Felicity Smoak needed him. Not even one of his own making.

Through a haze of mascara dyed tears and fogged up lenses, Felicity could almost watch the transformation on his face as he forced his way through the barrier he’d created for himself. It was an instantaneous change. A color of emotions spread across his features, a rush of concern and fear and so. Much. Love. He reached for her, not to protect her, but to be with her, to hold her and keep her and cherish her as she had always needed.

She let him draw her close into his warmth and wept into his shirt. She knew he would build up his walls again, retreat back into his impassive world, and shut her in that small prison he had created for her outside of his, and this brief experience of unbridled feeling from the man she loved would soon pass.

For now though, as he wrapped his arms around her, his own eyes brimming with tears, chin nestled on top of her head, it was alright.


End file.
